


Dopamine Manufacturing

by WreckkedRekt



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-11-28 09:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18206486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreckkedRekt/pseuds/WreckkedRekt
Summary: It’s unfortunate that Illumi Zoldyck's hero,his knight who has quite valiantly burst in to rescue him from the fierce and terrible clutches of his own unconscious prison—was in fact not a hero.You could say he was very not good at all. Antagonistic and malevolent in his disposition actually.But who was Illumi to pick and choose who decided to run off and save the dragon instead of the princess?Especially when he needs help stealing a very special Poor Man's Rose...





	1. Prologue

 

 

  
_**Delicate**._  
_To be very fine in texture or structure; of intricate workmanship or quality. Synonyms include fine, exquisite, dainty, and elegant._

 

 

His mother taps her chin with a pointer finger, her nail long, polished, and oval in shape. His father stands a bit behind her. He towers over them both, his immesnse shadow swallowing them in its overbearing and dark authority.

  
He blinks up at them owlishly, his childish face all wide eyes as he watches them without understanding.

  
"His nose is a bit small." , his mother comments. He's not entirely sure what she means by this revelation. He looks to his father when he speaks, hoping that maybe his reply would give some clarity.

  
"Yes...And his face is very round. Even with age it will most likely remain the same."

  
"His eyes are much too _big_." , his mother adds quickly, "Anyone will be able to read them if hes not trained properly."

 

  
Illumi brings his small hands up, beginning to wring them as he shuffles his weight. He feels uneasy, rather suddenly, for a reason he cant explain. His mother continues her scrutiny, shaking her head as she peers down her thin nose at him.

 

"So much for our first son." , she says, sniffling for a touch of melodramatics. His father waves a hand soothingly, frowning but unperturbed.

  
"Now, now. He may be on the delicate side, but skill is far more important in this sort of work, Kikyo. You know that."

  
Illumi swallows, looking down at his shoes as his parents continue their debate, discussing in great detail each of his features. Concerns and how to rectify them. He has the faintest inkling that something about the way he looks wasnt what it should be.

 

Was disappointing, even.

 

  
Delicate...was something someone should not be.

 

 

 

 **Delicate, cont.**  
To be easily broken or damaged; fragile.  
Synonyms include frail, frangible, brittle and breakable.

 

 

Illumi hits the ground hard, the sound of his knees, of bone, against stone cracking in his eardrums like a whip against his back.

 

  
" _Up_.", comes the harsh snap of his father's voice from above.

  
He stands, trying to move as quickly as possible despite the dribbles of blood connecting his bare knees to the rockface below. Dirt cakes the cuts in the torn flesh. It itches and burns terribly, and a fierce ache is starting up his legs the moment he puts any weight on them.  
He steels himself, gritting his teeth as he rises to full height.

He wipes his bruising cheek with the back of his wrist. His opponent, a butler of their employ, readies their stance.

 

  
They move fast; Illumi's large eyes following the pivot of their feet to the extension of their arm just in time to backstep and avoid another crushing blow. He ducks forward, sliding smoothly under their arm to punch his fists in succession into the larger man's ribcage.  
The butler lets out a noise of pain, trying to land a left hook on Illumi's chin, but missing by a mere inch as Illumi slithers away into his defensive position again. He wants to smile, wants to make a snarky remark and look to his father in victory. But he cant let the triumph reach his eyes.

  
His parents..His mother always bickered on and on about his eyes. Too big, she said, too vunerable like wide open books. His father always reminded him to keep feeling and reaction down below his eyes, like water in a glass. Keep it below the rim. Keep his eyes clear so that they could be the best tools they could be. He--

 

  
Theres a scuffle of the butler's feet against gritty rock a split instant before Illumi's face is meeting it. He cant gasp, his jaw...It must be broken, has to be with all the screaming pain englufing it. He blinks, makes a wretched, suffocated noise, scrabbling desperately in the dust to get up. He has to get up. Blood slops out of his mouth, his vision twisting like smoke in front of his eyes as he spots a piece of tooth laying in the mess of red and now mud. He tries to breathe in through his nose, but only the feeling of added agony greets him. It mustve broke when he was knocked down again..

 

  
Burning, thobbing distress runs through his face, spreading like molten steel under his swelling skin. He manages to get to his hands and knees, but the hard sole of a shoe meets his ribs. He almost cries out, his eyes whipping to his father though he already knows thats the wrong move. He has to keep it out of his ey--  
Illumi's rewarded with another kick that sends him spiraling helplessly across the stone, his form all flailing arms and legs as red smears brokenly after him. He's wheezing through a broken nose and mouth, fingernails painfully catching against rock as he fights to lift himself.

  
He can feel it, tears like acid behind his eyes, the glass of water overfilling under the despair of increasing failure and pain. His fathers fading footsteeps finally reach him through his suffering, his dry voice on the wind.

 

  
"Do not stop. Bones always grow back stronger after their broken. If he's not too frail, he will get up."

 

 

 

 **Delicate, cont.**  
To require sensitive or careful handling.  
Synonyms include emotive, touchy, sensitive, and difficult.

 

 

Illumi wrestles the target, a rather slimey business woman, hooking a foot around her ankle and giving a sharp yank as to knock her down to her knees.

  
She yells, for help perhaps. Somebody! Anybody! : Like they always do. Its almost funny, he guesses, though hes not entirely sure. Humor was far too complex for something so unnecessary.

  
She tries to elbow him, reach behind her and claw with her pampered nails. All of which is avoided easily enough. The toughest part was operating stealthily enough throughout the sckyscraper as to go undetected. The security was not to be attacked, per quote the instructions given to him for this job.

  
So now here they both where, in a breathtaking corner office. All big windows and nighttime city skyline, expensive chairs and a large mahoghany desk. Speaking of which, he drags her back over to said desk, tossing her across it with more or less ease. She rolls over the surface, the severity of his throw giving her enough momentum to knock just about every little trinket to the floor with a clamor.

  
He doesnt mind the noise. One would call it sloppy, but this would be over too quick for any sort of racket to make a difference.  
Illumi pulls on the hem of each glove, securing them around his hands as he approaches her.

 

  
She scrumbles, picking up a paperweight and giving her best attempt to throw it at him. Theres a soft slap of the glass sphere against the leather of his glove as he catches it, the woman's narrow eyes widening in horror.

  
Shes backing up on the floor, shaking her head and muttering "No" and "Oh my God" 's to herself as the gravity, the inevitable conclusion of this night dawns on her. Illumi merely shoves the desk out of his way with his free hand, the one carrying the paperweight dropping down to his side. He blinks his big dark eyes, the reflection of the city outside the window at the woman's back gleaming in their depths. He pulls his arm back and throws the weight with all his might: his abnormal strength sending the thing barreling through the glass just right to send the whole pane falling away into nothingness. A howling wind fills the office, papers and books rushing around them, documents sucked out the window.

The sound is awfully loud, like a train rushing around them, Illumi's black hair whipping about his apathetic features.

  
She screams, and by god does she scream. It almost sends a thrill through him, the faintest of smiles dancing on the corners of his round lips. Before she can fall backwards into the abyss waiting for her, Illumi catches her by the collar of her bloodied blouse. He kneels down, to eye level.

 

  
"P-Please! _Please_ , please please, listen to me--!" , she's hollering over the sound of the rushing wind as he drags her further past the edge, "You-- Y-You care! You can _feel--!!"_

The rough edges of the broken window tear at her pants, surely cutting her legs underneath. Ugly tears run down her miserable face, nose running and cakey makeup dribbling onto her already messy collar.

  
"I can not." , he says plainly, opening his hand to let her go.

 

A hand lurches out and grabs onto his wrist as she stumbles. Their eyes connect. Illumi feels his eyes widen, and by the realization on her face he can see that she recognizes the look in his big black eyes. That trace of reaction.

  
He's nearly scowling as he grabs the fingers clutching to him and breaks them all in one snap of his wrist, her scream only growing louder as she tumbles out the window and is swallowed whole by the shadows and buildings below.

 

  
He breathes out, not bothering to watch her fall as he looks out the window to his escape route. Illumi could already hear security rushing up the stairwell.

  
He looks down at the wrist the woman had grabbed onto in that last instant.  
She ...suprised him. Got him to- no -made him react. Even in just the slighest of ways.  
Emotions he always believes he has long since buried rise like rapid bubbles in boiling water. Every time he thinks he's put it all away, every time he thinks hes got nothing more to crush down within himself..!

  
The door bursts open, men and their guns in hand filling the room. Footsteps and shouting fills the already noisey air.  
Dont attack the guards, rings through his head. His instructions..a rule for this job.

  
"Put your hands up!" , cuts through the rush of wind around them.

  
Illumi feels his hands lift slowly, fingertips practically itching for the needles embedded in his vest.

  
He's already reacted with an emotion tonight. To kill these guards would be no better. No more practical. His fingers dance at the ends of his needles, pulling a few free undetectably.

 

 

The line between him and his bloodlust had always been a bit blurred anyways...Difficult to manage once awake and sensitive to the touch.

 

 

 

 **Delicate, cont.**  
To be pleasing to the senses.  
Synonyms include pleasant, charming, and fineness.

 

Illumi drags in a quiet inhale, holding it in as he closes his hand tighter around the throat below him.

  
The man, much bigger then him yet rendered nearly helpless in this position, only seems to mock him with the amused look in his golden eyes. His wavy hair is a mess, magenta locks sticking to his face as he begins to sweat.

 

  
He bucks his hips underneath Illumi, long legs pushing for purchase on the slick ground but unable to gain any sort of considerable traction. His pallid face is starting to flush under strain, lips parted to try and pull in any breaths possible as tiny crystalline beads of perspiration appear on his nose and brow.

  
Illumi stares down at him, having long since abandoned the need to blink very often at all. His eyes are like two chips of blackness, looking almost two-dimensional in their flatness and lack of depth.

  
Hes not sure why he doesnt just crush this man's throat, he thinks disinterestedly, a long strand of inky black hair cascading infront of his face. Its more effective and far less time consuming that way. However watching someone as strong as this squirm beneath him has its perks, he supposes. Satisfies some strange blood driven hunger eating a hole into his chest.

 

  
He tilts his head as watches the man's eyes start to roll up, Illumi tightening his grip as to finish the job. Without a second to spare the other's right hand comes shooting up out of nowhere. Illumi can hardly register this, even in his extentive training, and braces to be hit yet again by the other man. After all, could he really expect him to go out so easily?

  
The target had put up an incredible resistance, dealing Illumi quite a fair share of damage before being knocked down himself due to a well placed needle to the back of his knee. He only had an instant to get ontop of him and get him straddled down well enough for Illumi to get his hands around his throat.

  
And yet, Illumi is still here, waiting for some sort of attack by the man's free hand. But instead he feels a large hand slide over his and he looks down to see...

  
He was choking himself. Choking himself by squeezing Illumi's hand even tighter.  
Hardly anything was enough to throw Illumi off his rhythm. This was nearly no exception.

Nearly.

  
As interesting as this little development was, it was hardly the element that caught him off guard. In fact, it was another "devleopment" that managed to do so.

  
Underneath him Illumi feels something becoming increasingly..apparent. It grows as the man forces Illumis hand to grip tighter, his tongue peeking out to lick his pale lips. The thing hardens under his tight straddling of the mans hips, pushing up at Illimi's rear through billowy white pants and Illumi's own.

  
It takes him a few delayed seconds, but another involuntary buck of the other's hips and the eye contact he was suddenly making was all a slap in the face.

 

  
An erection. This man ...had an _erection_.

 

  
If Illumi had any sort of embarressment or something of the sort in him, even shame, perhaps he wouldve floundered away. But istead he shakes off the other man's hand and stops all action at once for a moment.

  
The other takes in a rough breath, looking at him with a fully pink face as if to say why'd you stop?

  
"What?" , is all Illumi can think of to ask.

  
"Huh?"

  
Illumi feels the vague inkling that maybe he should get off this mans lap, but deems that letting him up was far more dangerous then this foolishness.

  
"What did.."

  
"What?" , the guy asks, and hes not sure if he's truly this dumb or just trying to play him. He certainly didnt seem apologetic or ashamed.

  
"Did you just get..?"

  
" _Huh_?"

  
Illumi wouldve frowned if he could. Probably.

 

  
He blinks, eyes and face blank. The other man does the same, except a grin is stretching his lips into a crooked leer. His amber eyes are half lidded, and the erection Illumi was situated atop of certainly wasnt going anywhere-- in fact it was only seeming to get much worse.  
Illumi reaches forward to finish him off, not caring much if this guy died getting off or partially by his own hand. But the man raises his free hand, blocking him for a moment.

  
"You..." , his voice is like satin; deep and silky despite having just been choked. It's too nice for his demeanor or what was happening right now, "Illumi Zoldyck? Yes?"

  
"Yes, that's correct."

  
"I've never met one of the Zoldycks in person before..You dont really _look_ like an assassin"

  
Somewhere far away Illumi swears he can hear glass shattering.

  
The man rubs his chin with a finger, pointed nail tracing a wet lip none too subtly,  
"Well..apart from those creepy eyes of yours. Theyre still very nice in their own way..pleasant."

  
Something under him seems to twitch.

  
"Excuse me," , Illumi cuts in.

  
"Mm?" , the man hums, a bit distracted in the way he looks at him.

  
"What is your name?"

  
"Ahh... _Hisoka_. Morow."

  
"Okay. I'm going to kill you now, Hisoka."

 

  
Hisoka breathes out hard, face alighting with fresh rosey color as another wavy magenta strand frees itself to hang in his face. " _Ooh_..yes. Please do. Just, _mm_ , look at me with that face of yours while you do it, especially those big, beautiful eyes."

 

  
Illumi is sure he actually frowns ever so slightly this time.

  
His big eyes..  
His delicate face..

 

  
This..Hisoka mentions both of these things in one breathless request, elegantly shaped golden eyes locking with his own while he does it. Looking at him like that, reacting like this-- as depraved as it was.

  
Looking at him while he speaks of these things..As if...

 

 

...delicate was something someone could be. Was not a disappointment, even.  
.

.

.


	2. The Dining Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A polite family conversation over dinner leads to a rather quick thickening of the plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chap! Just getting something out while I work on the next one (it's long)

Illumi looks up, blinking, his fork lifted halfway to his mouth.

 

 

“Ants?”

 

 

His voice, even as soft as it was, echoes throughout the dining room. The high stone walls and arching ceiling was coupled with more then a generous amount of space. After all, the dinner table itself stretched roughly twenty feet long from end to end. This allowed just the right combination to ensure every word spoken would ring out loud and clear several times over.

The dim and dreary orange light filtering through the amber skylight situated high above them only added to the ominous effect.

 

  
Despite all the obvious foreboding the room emanated from its very walls, Illumi couldn’t picture a homier place to sit down and have a meal. It was rather comfortable in his opinion and he, looking briefly to his brother’s vacant chair, couldn’t understand why Kil had always been so dead set on avoiding such a gathering

Another thought enters the back of his mind and he thinks of Milluki’s empty chair as well, sitting lone and empty beside Kil’s. Milluki would often join them at the table as a child, making the immense room feel just a tad bit fuller. Illumi, being the only child for so long, didn’t entirely mind such a change.

 

 

But very quickly over time Milluki’s general attitude soured. He became cynical, abrasive, and overall terribly distant as he started locking himself and his snacks away in the depths of the Zoldyck family basement. Any time he did decide to join them, Milluki would entertain himself by making brash comments towards Illumi’s mannerisms or some such or complaining in general about better things he could be doing.

His mother and father did not do much to try and rectify this behavior, but instead more or less embraced it. The more cold and self serving Milluki became, the more absorbed in his work and training he became in his self imposed isolation only served to make Silva and Kikyo more enthusiastic about what their son was becoming.

As a result, Illumi never really cared much for the younger brother. Milluki found him odd and Illumi found the other just as much so. Had they really ever really been brothers? _Friends,_ even?

 

Not that either of those things mattered at this point, Illumi thinks blandly.

 

 

His father nods, the sigh through his nose cutting through Illumi’s thoughts as Silva shifts the steak knife around in his hand. His mother however pipes up sharply.

 

“Chimera ants, Illumi.” , she says, sounding none too pleased as she does so, “ _Chimera_.”

 

 

Illumi doesn’t do much to acknowledge her words besides a minor shift of his eyes in her direction. It’s a flat look; the glance holding neither annoyance at her tone or apology for his meager mistake. He holds that stare until looking to his father again when he speaks up.

 

“Apparently they’re causing quite the commotion. Supposedly they’re crossing their species with humans.” , he says.

 

Illumi blinks again, slower this time. As if the gesture was meant to replace a face full of thoughtfulness.

 

 

“How are they doing that?”

 

Silva places a piece of roast in his mouth, chewing quick before answering.

 

“By eating them. Humans.”

 

“…Children?”

 

 

  
His father’s pale eyes slide up to meet his own dark ones.

 

 

“Adults. Children. Infants. Anything in between.”

 

 

Illumi’s eyes slide forward again as he considers this, flat depths focusing on nothing in particular while he places his bite of food in front of his mouth. In a few short, rapid consecutive bites and a swallow, it’s down without much thought. He sets his fork down, hands going to his lap to rest in a neutral position over his thighs.

Eating humans? When Illumi pictured ants, he imagined the little ones you could kill with a well placed scuff of your heel. But to pull off a feat such as eating full grown human beings.. Where could such a thing come from?

To his left, his grandfather shifts in his chair. He seems to pick up on Illumi’s train of thought, or at least his lack of knowledge.

 

 

“It’s hypothesized that they emerged from somewhere within NGL.” , he says after dabbing his mouth with his napkin, “A Fantastic Beast hunter entered the area with a small group and found an infestation in progress.”

 

Silva continues, raising a great big hand to gesture.

 

“The situation, in short, has escalated quickly. Several hunters have died or gone missing and the supposed “ants” are becoming far more sophisticated and powerful.”

 

Illumi hums in the back of his throat, the sound almost air headed in its unconcern.

 

“Ah..I assume this is not a topic meant for only dinner chat?” , he asks, tilting his head a bit curiously.

 

Zeno chuckles softly in the background. Silva glances at his father then Kikyo, who nods a bit stiffly. He focuses his gaze on Illumi again, who meets it with his usual unreflective stare.

 

 

  
His father moves his plate aside, a butler stepping forward from behind to whisk the dish away. Lacing his fingers together and leaning forward on the tabletop, his father looks to him in an oddly serious way. This was a job proposal, that much was certain.

Yet, why was his father being so no nonsense? Sure, his father had always been that way to some extent, but never to such a degree when it came to assassination. At least not since he had become efficient enough.

 

Illumi had long since abandoned the metaphorical water glass behind his eyes his parents had always warned him about overfilling. He was quick. To the point. Saw no point in wasting his time or energy.

…Though this applied to anyone else in the general facility he saw who had no use in living. What was the difference in necessity and casualty anyways? So long as the target was successfully disposed of.

He knew his family differed from him on this, their ideals straying into whatever territory they found more honest and palatable. But his father was more then aware of how Illumi preferred to go about his business.

 

 

So why, he thinks, head tilting further, did his father look so grave about simply having him kill--

 

 

“I need you to steal a bomb.”

 

...Oh?

 

“With absolutely _no_ casualties, Illumi.”

 

 

 _...Oh_.

 

 


End file.
